


Humility

by myworldisbiworld



Series: Sins & Virtues [4]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, John Seed POV, Seed Family Dynamics, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-10-24 03:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17696927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myworldisbiworld/pseuds/myworldisbiworld
Summary: John gets a visit from The Father after Rook escapes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No smut, sorry. Still, this scene stuck in my head and I wanted to share!

“John.”

Flinching at the sound of his own name, John dropped his gaze to the floor the instant Joseph entered his room. For days, he’d been both dreading and expecting this inevitable visit from The Father.

The knowledge had driven John from the depths of his bunker back to the comforts of Seed Ranch, fleeing the whispers that haunted him. Since Rook’s escape, everything had changed. His power had shifted and his followers were beginning to see him in another light. 

And now The Father was here to set things right.

Joseph folded his glasses shut and set them on the table, alongside his personal bible. The rosary beads around his hand trailed against the wooden surface, the soft scratching sound prickling John’s sensitive ears.

He didn’t know if he should speak. As always, his silver tongue abandoned him in the presence of The Father, where lies and half-truths had no power. Unlike other people, Joseph didn’t have weaknesses to twist and exploit.

John’s only salvation was in knowing that, for some crazy reason, his brother loved him. An unconditional love that pained John as much as it saved him, for he was entirely unworthy of it.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Joseph murmured, placing his hands on John’s shoulders. The Father waited patiently until John met his gaze, his expression as kind and gentle as his voice. “Your Sin did not kill you this time.”

John swallowed nervously, but his breath hitched when he saw Joseph’s eyes drop to the bruises that still darkened his throat. The wounds were fading from an ashen purple to sickly yellow, though the area around Rook’s bite remained deep maroon.

Joseph sighed and shook his head, his hands squeezing John’s shoulders.

“I’m disappointed in you, John. I have warned you time and time again.”

A cold shiver ran down John’s spine, and, despite knowing he wouldn’t succeed, his survival instinct pushed him to start babbling.

“I can explain, Joseph--I, I can get her for you, I can find her and bring her back--”

“Shh, shh.” Joseph closed his eyes and touched their foreheads again, his hands running up and down John’s shoulders soothingly. “It’s alright, little brother. I am not here to punish you for the Deputy’s escape. God has made sure she found her way to us again.”

John’s eyebrows snapped together. “What do you mean?”

“You should be concerned about yourself.” Joseph’s eyelids flicked open, freezing John in place. His grip tightened on John’s shoulders again, the leather of John’s coat audibly crinkling as pain began to blossom.

“I warned you about your sin besting you, brother. And now you have defiled yourself in front of our Family, in front of God. You must face Atonement.”

“Joseph, I--”

“Confess to me, John. And then we will atone together.”

And John did what he always did.

He said _Yes_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will spread a few chapters, probably three. No smut, since I'm not into shipping the brothers with each other.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

“I never asked for perfection,” Joseph began, his eyes cast down as he rolled up his sleeves. The crisp white fabric of his undershirt crumpled, revealing the plethora of scars and tattoos along his forearms. “I expected mistakes. It’s natural.”

As Joseph stepped away, John rubbed his fingertips together, feeling the clammy sweat that had built up on his skin. His heart thudded in his chest, not fast and panicked, but heavy and anxious. Silently, he watched Joseph back shift as the Father rifled through the bag he'd brought.

“Do you remember our reunion, little brother?” Joseph inquired softly, placing a long, slender knife on the table. His rosary-adorned hand lingered over the hilt as he waited for John to reply. The beads clicked against the table as Joseph traced the worn inlay of the knife handle.

“Yes,” John whispered.

“You were so lonely, so frightened… Just like when we were children.”

A bottle of first aid alcohol emerged from the bag and was set down next to the knife. John tried not to fidget, but the anticipation had him buzzing, his fingertips twitching at his sides.

“God told me you needed me. I admit, I had my doubts--what could I do for the big city lawyer? I had little more than the clothes on my back and the Voice in my ear.”

Bandages followed the alcohol, the unopened plastic wrapping audibly crinkling as it moved. Joseph has brought quite the pile of bandages, John noticed.

“But I listened. I went to you and found you, just as God said I would.”

Joseph set down his yellow glasses and placed his palms on the table. After a short pause, he hung his head and sighed. John's heart sank at the sight of his brother's sagging shoulders.

“And you were _broken_.”

John flinched.

Wearily,  Joseph picked up the knife and turned to face John, his gaunt face emphasized by the sharp lighting behind him. Without the tint of his glasses, John finally looked back into eyes as icily blue as his own. His heart faltered under so intense a gaze, his soul pierced through and through.

Memories of their terrible reunion flashed through his mind, all blood and rage. John struggled to stay present, his guilty soul trying to drag him back to that moment. The moment it all began.

“But I helped you then, as I will help you now.” Joseph’s hard features softened with pity. “I will always help you, John.”

“Please.” John's voice was little more than a whimper as he fell to his knees before The Father. “Help me.”

Two fingers gingerly lifted John's chin, and he looked up at Joseph once more. Those long slender fingers kept tilting his head back, until his bruised throat was fully exposed.

As the knife touched his skin, tears pricking his eyes, John smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Joseph wiped the bloodied knife on his slacks before sliding it back into the embroidered leather guard at his hip. Holding one of John’s hands with his own and using the other to cradle his younger brother’s lower back, Joseph lifted John onto the bed. Gingerly, he settled John down over the silk sheets before turning away to get supplies from his bag.

As he listened to The Father shuffle through his effects, John stared at the ceiling, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Each pulse of his steady heartbeat brought new pain to his freely bleeding neck, each labored breath stretching the tender flesh. The new wounds stung as beads of sweat rolled down to mix with blood. Joseph had been merciful in that the wounds were shallow, and he had not chosen to tear out the skin.

Not yet, anyway.

A shadow darkened his view as Joseph leaned over him. The Father glanced placidly down at him, but otherwise said nothing. John’s eyes shut again as Joseph tended to the wounds. First, he splashed cool water over John’s neck, discarding the first layer of blood. Trickles of water ran across his skin, dribbling down his collarbone to soak into his shirt or to pool on the sheets underneath. Then came the sweet sting of alcohol, piercing through the throbs and sending ripples of pain down his spine, almost as sharp as the blade itself.

John always enjoyed this part, the way the alcohol’s crisp scent filled his nostrils and brought him right back to his body-- _this_ is what he was meant for,  _this_ is what he deserved. Another brief but beautiful moment of feeling cleansed.

Cool air tickled his raw flesh as the substance quickly dried, and he heard the telltale crinkle of something being unwrapped. Soon, Joseph’s gentle hands were gingerly pressing down a fresh bandage. As much as the little boy in him wanted to soak it up, the kindness of the touch unsettled adult John, who craved pain instead.

Continuing to lie perfectly still as Joseph carefully taped the bandage down, John tried and failed not to think of how impressively strong Rook’s hands had been. Riddled with scars and tattoos that he wanted to explore with his tongue and teeth before she ripped him apart.

He felt heat stir in his lower belly, tingling in his groin and thighs, and John forced himself to focus on the pain again. It was easier this time, with shame to guide him away from temptation.

Eventually, the bandaging was finished and Joseph sat up, bringing John with him. The two of them sat at the edge of the bed, knees touching, hands in their laps.

“It is up to you to find your way to Eden, John,” Joseph said after a few minutes of silence, reaching out to grasp one of John’s hands. There were still traces of blood along Joseph’s hands and forearm, streaked across the old wounds that John remembered carving himself. Turning to look at his brother, John could see the endless empathy in Joseph, the love that he held. Briefly, John felt guilty for betraying that love and trust.

But a part of him, the part of him that wouldn’t let go of the memory of a pair of fine hands, knew it had been worth it.

“Do not let your Sin consume you,” Joseph whispered, touching their foreheads together again.

“Yes,” John answered automatically, gaze lowered. He didn’t have the strength--or courage--to meet The Father’s eyes right now.

“Hmm.” Joseph released him and stood up, while John remained seated at the foot of the bed. Though John kept his eyes lowered, he could hear the frown in his brother’s voice.

“Perhaps it is best the Deputy is out of your reach for now.”

John’s eyes shot up at that, his eyebrows snapping together. “Where is she?”

Joseph’s arm snaked out and his hand snatched John’s throat. Those long fingers sunk into the fresh bandages, reopening the wounds beneath. John’s vision blurred as his pain receptors fired, shocks of twisted pleasure sent right to his brain.

“Do you see, brother? Do you see that you have lost your way?”

Joseph’s fingers tightened, digging into the tender flesh as he dragged John to his feet. John could hear his boots scrape against the wooden floor as he scrambled to find his footing. Joseph shoved him away, sending John stumbling back onto his bed, gasping for air. Straightening his clothes, Joseph gazed coolly down at him.

“The Deputy is no longer your concern. Jacob will ensure that she finds her place amongst us.” Joseph began to walk out, but lingered in the doorway. Over his shoulder, he delivered his parting words.

“Remember the Path, dear brother. I would see you in Eden.”


End file.
